


Yellow Streak

by Tarlan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-13
Updated: 2008-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wondered momentarily when he'd lost his yellow streak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Streak

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **mcsheplets** Anniversary Ficlet Word Tree.  
>  Also for **mcsheplets** table prompt #23 - injured/handicapped

The Chair was so similar to the one on Atlantis. It hummed as it switched on, an almost familiar blue threading through the decorative seams and paneling as the seat tipped back. The floor glowed in the same sickly blue light, flickering as the Chair pulled the last of the energy from the almost depleted ZPM. Rodney knew it was only a matter of time before the ZPM failed and then they would be trapped in this underground cavern with no means of reaching the surface alive, for not even the Asgard transporter on the _Daedalus_ could reach this far into the mountain and they would have died from starvation long before the engineers on Atlantis could dig them out.

"Rodney, is there any reason Lorne can't handle this?"

John's voice came through the communications console loud and clear despite the distance between them, and Rodney knew every nuance of that voice so keenly after all these years that he could hear the slight quiver of fear running through it. He could hear the self-hatred too, in asking Lorne to take Rodney's place even though John could justify his words because Lorne was a soldier with a duty to protect the civilians, and Rodney's loss would have a far greater impact on two galaxies.

"Yes of course, let's give the job to the man with the concussion," he snapped back, trying to hide his own fear but failing miserably.

Rodney glanced over towards the small dais set slightly apart from the Chair where Lorne was lying curled on his side only semi-conscious, blood soaking through the makeshift bandage covering the gash in his forehead from fallen debris. Beside Lorne, Porter looked sick with the same fear that coiled in Rodney's belly and if Porter had possessed the ATA gene then Rodney might have been tempted to let the man pay for his stupidity in activating the original transportation device that had sent the three of them into this death trap. Except he knew he wouldn't, couldn't, and he wondered momentarily when he'd lost his yellow streak.

"Rodney!"

A little bitterness rose as bile in his throat, burning, but he choked it down. He was a genius so he was under no illusion as to how this would end. This wasn't the way he wanted to end his life but not many got to choose how they died and at least it was for a noble cause, saving the lives of two others. Words from long ago echoed in his head and he was tempted to say, _So long, John_ , but he choked back those words in the realization that this was it. He would never get another chance to say the more important words that had balled in his chest and clutched at his heart for so many years.

"John? I love you," he choked out.

"RODNEY!"

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on using the last of the power to activate the transporter, a brilliant light flaring against his eyelids, and he squeezed them closed tighter with shock and wailed in despair as some force grabbed at him, tearing him from the Chair. He'd failed!

"Rodney! Rodney!"

His eyelids felt so heavy but he could swear that he heard John's voice, could feel John's strong arms holding him. He forced his eyes open and stared up into a concerned face that collapsed into relief. John seemed to fold over him, pulling him in tighter as his cheek rested on the top of Rodney's head.

"A deadman switch," Rodney proclaimed softly, hardly believing it himself but, for once, the Ancients seemed to have built in a means to transport the Chair operator too in the event of an imminent catastrophic failure.

"Don't do that to me again," John stated harshly, before whispering against Rodney's ear, "I love you too, buddy."

END


End file.
